


consider this the slip that brought me to my knees

by ohwines



Series: fe3h requests [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Era, Feelings Realization, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Time Skip, but like. ROMANTIC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25793233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwines/pseuds/ohwines
Summary: Sylvain loved Dimitri, of course he did, but he’d always seen him as that soft little prince with the dorky haircut and little Felix for a shadow. Now he was a grown man, a big grown man, still with Felix for a shadow but hardened by war and a darkness Sylvain would probably never get to the bottom of.Sylvain realizes some things, all on his own.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: fe3h requests [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690891
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67





	consider this the slip that brought me to my knees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emmyluna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmyluna/gifts).



> for my dear sweet love emmy, who asked for this a long time ago. i'm sorry it took me so long ♡
> 
> title from losing my religion by r.e.m.

The prince had always been handsome, pretty even, once he’d grown out of his baby face and cut his hair. But back then he was too perfect, too untouchable, too distant. But war changed him. War had changed everyone. The first time Sylvain begins to seriously consider Dimitri as someone he might desire, it’s not long after the battle at Gronder Field. Sylvain knows he needs to be focused on the matter at hand--retaking Fhirdiad--and not on the width of Dimitri’s shoulders or the low rumble of his voice as he helps lead the war council from his place at Byleth’s side.

“Your Majesty!” he calls out after one such meeting, unable to stop himself.

Dimitri turns around instantly, looking pleased to see him. It’s a stark change from the Dimitri of a couple months prior. 

“Please Sylvain, I have implored you to call me by my name. Besides, I am not the king yet.” 

“Only thing you’re lacking is a coronation.” Sylvain grins and begins to walk down the corridor, hoping Dimitri follows. He does, easy as anything. 

“What is it that you wanted from me, Sylvain?” From anyone else, the question would sound suspicious, but from Dimitri it’s earnest, genuine. To Dimitri, it’s as simple as Sylvain desiring his time; Dimitri desires to give it to him. Sylvain doesn’t really know what he’s doing, doesn’t really know what he wants from Dimitri. Maybe Dimitri should be suspicious of him.

“Thought we could use some fresh air. Those councils can be so stuffy, especially with old Gilbert hovering over you constantly.”

To Sylvain’s surprise, Dimitri chuckles softly. Sylvain would do anything to hear the sound again. “You’re not wrong. I could do with a bit of a break.”

Dimitri has always taken Sylvain at his word, trusted him implicitly no matter what. It was sweet when he was still little Dima; it’s heartbreaking now.

“Perfect, I won’t keep you too long,” Sylvain responds, feeling a guilt for which he is unable to determine the source.

For now, Sylvain tells himself that all he wants is a walk and some fresh air and the simple company of the friend he thought he’d lost.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Sylvain is distracted. Ingrid has been on his case nonstop for days. They leave for Fhirdiad in a week, but he can’t focus on that. His mind is filled with nothing but thoughts of Dimitri; at first he attributes it to simple lust. The past few months, not to mention the past few years, have left him so busy and stressed that fooling around has been the last thing on his mind. There had been a few trysts here and there, but he hadn’t actively sought anyone out since before his return to the monastery with Ingrid and Felix. When his eyes linger on Dimitri’s broad shoulders and trim waist, or the way he’s been wearing his long hair reveals the cut of his jaw, he tells himself he’s just pent up and needs a release. But rubbing his dick raw in his quarters each night isn’t cutting it. Trying to picture someone, anyone else, is a waste of time. He tries to think of a woman, one who’s soft and thick, but that doesn’t work; all his fantasies of men morph into being pinned into the mattress by big, broad blondes, begging for release.

He’s not just horny. He’s horny for Dimitri, his little Dima, his prince, his almost king. But he also wants to see him smile, and hear him laugh, and make sure he’s eating properly.

Oh. 

Well. That was certainly a new development. Sylvain loved Dimitri, of course he did, but he’d always seen him as that soft little prince with the dorky haircut and little Felix for a shadow. Now he was a grown man, a big grown man, still with Felix for a shadow but hardened by war and a darkness Sylvain would probably never get to the bottom of. He didn’t know what to be for Dimitri, how to be for Dimitri, or if Dimitri even wanted him to be anything other than...there. But while he’s constantly hounded by Gilbert, shadowed by Felix, planning the retaking of Fhirdiad with Byleth and Dedue...maybe being there for him is good enough.

  
  


* * *

The next step is obvious. He needs to take Dimitri on a date. Maybe not his usual wine, dine, and sixty-nine, especially considering Garreg Mach’s meager resources and the impending siege in Fhirdiad, but something to show his appreciation for Dimitri as a leader and his growing appreciation for him as a man. After taking stock of the monastery’s rations and supplies, he decides to prepare one of the meals Dedue taught him how to cook, knowing it’s one Dimitri favors. The biggest issue, really, is going to be getting the future king alone. 

It’s not until the next morning, at the stables, that Sylvain thinks he has it figured out. He, Dimitri, Ingrid, Felix and Byleth are having an impromptu meeting about the care of their war horses; why Felix is there--despite his disdain for riding--is beyond Sylvain. The group has begun to disperse so Sylvain seizes his chance, calling out to Dimitri. He’s turning with a smile on his face--the smile he wears a lot lately when Sylvain is around--when Felix slips in between them, the shape of his mouth furious. Ah, Sylvain thinks. This is why. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Felix hisses under his breath. Dimitri doesn’t seem to have heard but looks surprised nonetheless. 

“I have know idea what you’re talking about, Flick,” Sylvain responds. He knows exactly what Felix is talking about. He hadn’t thought he’d been obvious enough for Felix Fraldarius of all people to notice. He’s losing his touch.

“Dimitri,” Sylvain starts. He can almost see the metaphorical fur raised along Felix’s spine at Sylvain’s use of Dimitri’s name. “It seems like Felix has something very important to discuss with me. I’ll catch up with you later,” he says with a wink. 

“Oh, all right. I will see you both for dinner,” he says, phrasing it like a statement but sounding like a question.

Sylvain waves him off with an affirmation and as soon as Dimitri is out of earshot Felix has him by the forearm, dragging him to a more secluded part of the stables. 

Sylvain stops him before he can start. 

“I know what you’re gonna say, and you’re wrong.”

“You have no idea what I’ve got to say,” Felix bites out.

“Oh yeah? Try me,” Sylvain says, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing with the boar, but it’s nothing good. Leave him alone. He doesn’t need this right now,” Felix says, all in a rush. 

“Do my ears deceive me, or do I hear Felix actually caring about Dimitri?”

Felix rolls his eyes. “That’s another thing. Why are you calling him that? It’s weird.”

“He asked me to.” Sylvain shrugs. 

Felix narrows his eyes. “That never meant anything to you before.”

“Yeah, well,” Sylvain starts, putting a head behind his head.

“You didn’t want to fuck him before,” Felix spits.

“No, I didn’t. But that’s not why. I care about him, Felix. I want to make him feel good and I want to make him happy. He deserves a little of that, at the very least.”

“He doesn’t need the distraction,” Felix responds.

“I’m not trying to be a distraction to him. I just...want to be whatever he does need, right now. It’s not up to you to decide that for him,” Sylvain says. 

A beat and then Felix finally responds. “I don’t like it.” He’s not placated, but he is subdued. 

“You don’t have to,” Sylvain answers, his voice soft. “I know you feel protective over him—” Felix sputters through a denial at this but Sylvain continues. “But I’m not going to do anything to hurt him.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Felix finally responds. “But I’ve got my eye on you, Gautier.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less of you, Lord Fraldarius,” Sylvain taunts as he walks away. 

  
  


* * *

After dinner that night, Sylvain makes his way to the kitchens and easily charms the cooks into giving him free reign of the dining hall for late the next night. He knows what he’s going to make, knows where he’s going to take Dimitri and now the only thing left is to invite him. He doesn’t think Dimitri will say no. Ingrid is too oblivious to romance to notice his behavior, and he knows Dedue is one of the few people who actually seems to both like and trust him, so he won’t be a problem. Now that he’s got Felix’s...well, not approval, but acceptance, there are no other obstacles left. 

He manages to catch him alone on his way back to his room. 

“Dimitri,” he calls. He’s been doing a lot of that lately.

Dimitri’s answering smile is so pretty it hurts a little. “Good evening, Sylvain. Heading to bed?”

“Looking for you, actually,” Sylvain replies, flirting a little. He knows his dimple shows when he grins like this, hopes Dimitri finds it charming. 

“Oh?” Dimitri asks, and his ears are red. Sylvain thinks he sounds shy. 

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” Sylvain responds. He takes Dimitri gently by the arm, guiding him through the monastery. 

“Sure, Sylvain. Anything,” Dimitri responds, easy and so trusting. Sylvain has a hard time feeling worthy of that, but that’s Dimitri’s call to make. 

“I know you’ve been busy. I was hoping to spend some time together tomorrow evening. After dinner,” Sylvain says, feeling nervous. It’s a new feeling for him, at least in this context. He lets go of Dimitri’s arm, but doesn’t move away as they walk towards their rooms.

“Oh! Like our walk the other day,” Dimitri responds.

“Mm, kind of. Did you enjoy that?”

“I did. It was refreshing.”

“Well, I can’t promise a lot of walking this time, but would you like to meet me at the star terrace tomorrow night? Maybe around nine?”

It’s quiet for a moment. Sylvain can feel his heart begin to crack in two.

Dimitri finally responds, and he’s quiet. “I would like that, Sylvain. I’ve never been up there, even after all this time.”

“Perfect,” Sylvain says, feeling relieved beyond words. They’ve reached Dimitri’s room. “Good night, Dimitri.”

“Good night, Sylvain.”

* * *

It’s the next evening, a quarter to nine and Sylvain is setting up the little picnic he made. He chose to make a cheesy stew both he and Dimitri favor. It was a little hard to pack but it keeps well. He’d had to request both the fish and the verona from Byleth and he’d felt a bit bad for that, knowing she was busy. He knows she would have agreed regardless, but when he let slip it’s for Dimitri she was more than willing. He might even say she was pleased, but she’s still not an easy read. She did wordlessly offer him chamomile leaves in addition to the other ingredients, however, and he thinks he’s got her approval, too. 

He’s just finishing pulling everything out when he hears Dimitri’s footsteps. 

“Good evening, Dimitri,” he greets without turning around. 

Dimitri clears his throat from behind him. “Good evening, Sylvain. Did you need any help with that?”

“Nah.” Sylvain waves him off as he stands up. “I just finished setting up, actually,” he says, gesturing to the blanket and dishes. 

“Oh, it smells delightful. You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble,” Dimitri says, a gentle reprimand. 

“I wanted to. Come sit,” Sylvain responds, gesturing to the blanket. Dimitri finally sits and Sylvain follows suit. 

He serves them both and they dig in. Sylvain wants to ask how it tastes, if Dimitri likes it, but he doesn’t want to come off as desperate. 

“Thank you, Sylvain. This was one of my favorite dishes as a child. It makes me feel warm all the way to my toes,” Dimitri says when he’s finished, laughing at himself a little. 

“It’s my favorite too,” Sylvain responds. “I’m glad you liked it, I’d be happy to make it again.”

“Where did you get the ingredients? I didn’t think the monastery had such a supply,” Dimitri asks, face thoughtful. 

“Ah, let’s just say I owe a certain someone a favor now,” he answers, feeling sheepish. 

Dimitri’s face softens. If he’s figured Sylvain out then he has enough tact not to say so. 

“Thank you for doing this, Sylvain. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate you going to such lengths for me.”

“Anytime,” Sylvain says with a grin. He fishes out the teapot he brought and uses a flame to bring it to boil with a snap of his fingers. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he hopes Dimitri is impressed by his little show of magic. He pours two cups of chamomile and hands one to Dimitri. 

“Ah, thank you Sylvain!” The look on Dimitri’s face is bright, content. “Chamomile is my favorite, the smell is so relaxing and comforting. How did you know?” 

Sylvain, once again, doesn’t want to admit that Byleth helped him with this. “Just a guess. I know it’s a good tea to have after a meal,” he bluffs. 

“Hm, yes. You’re right,” Dimitri responds, looking thoughtful, like he’d never considered that.

Sylvain stands and walks to the end of the balcony. The stars are clear and bright; he thinks stargazing is very romantic, and he hopes Dimitri feels the same. He leans against the balcony, facing Dimitri and grins at him, trying to convey what he wants. Dimitri seems to understand, joining him. 

“It’s a lovely night,” Dimitri says, looking at the sky. Sylvain has to force himself to look away from Dimitri’s handsome profile before he says something stupid.

“Yes,” he finally responds. “We’re lucky it’s not overcast tonight.”

It’s silent for a moment or two and it’s tense. Sylvain wants to say something, anything to get back the easy mood from their meal but Dimitri beats him to it. 

“Sylvain, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me tonight. This has been really lovely,” he says, slowly and carefully.

There’s a ‘but’ coming here, Sylvain can sense it. His stomach fills with lead. 

“But I need you to speak plainly to me. I’m inexperienced, not naïve. I think I know why you brought me here but I…” he trails off. This bashful, unsure man in front of him differs so much from the commander on the battlefield but they are both the Dimitri he cares for so much. Sylvain is terrified, waiting for the rejection.

But it never comes. “I care for you, Sylvain. Very much. When you invited me here I was hopeful, excited even. I hope I am not reading things wrong but...I don’t want to be a—” He clears his throat here, but continues on. “—notch on your bedpost, as it were,” he finishes, voice quiet and embarrassed. 

Sensing that he’s said his piece, Sylvain finds his voice. “Dimitri, you wouldn’t be. Whatever happens, if anything does, is your decision to make. I want to be whatever you need me to be. Whatever you want me to be. I want you to be happy because I think you deserve it,” he says, looking Dimitri in the eye. Dimitri meets him head on, but his eyes flicker to Sylvain’s mouth. 

  
  


“I can’t say I agree with your reasoning but...I won’t lie and say I don’t want this,” Dimitri finally says. 

“What’s ‘this’?” Sylvain asks, wanting to hear the words. 

A beat. Two.

“You. With me,” Dimitri answers. 

Sylvain feels the levity of relief and the pressure of nerves all at once. He leans in, mouth close to Dimitri’s own. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice almost a whisper. 

“Yes,” Dimitri answers, even quieter. 

He closes the distance between them. Dimitri’s lips are warm and softer than he expected. Up close Dimitri smells like chamomile and soap and man. The smell is more intoxicating than he thinks it should be and he wants more. He cups Dimitri’s face in his hands, angling his head just right. It’s easy, he thinks, to kiss Dimitri. For whatever limited experience he has, he isn’t bad at this. He isn’t bad at this at all. He pushes, Dimitri pulls. He gives, Dimitri takes. He’s kissed more experienced partners and enjoyed it far less. He moves down to kiss Dimitri’s neck, and Dimitri moans and the sound travels straight to Sylvain’s groin. 

“Sylvain,” he finally manages, sounding wrecked and breathless. “Sylvain, please kiss me again.”

Sylvain can’t say no to that. He licks the seam against Dimitri’s lips until he opens up, warm and wet and pliant. He moves them until he’s got Dimitri against the wall of the balcony, presses his hips flush against Dimitri’s.

“Is this okay?” he asks again.

“Yes,” Dimitri whispers before diving back in. He lets Dimitri take the lead in their kiss as he grinds into his crotch. Dimitri’s already hard and Sylvain is nearly there himself. He really wants to get his hands on Dimitri’s dick, wants to see his face when he comes. He moves his hands down to cup Dimitri’s chest. He wants to focus on getting Dimitri off; they’re outdoors so he can’t take his time, but this ever happens again, he’d really like to spend some time with Dimitri’s ample chest. He’s been with girls flatter than Dimitri. It’s mouthwatering. 

His hands reach Dimitri’s hips and he wants so badly to pull his cock out, see the size and feel the weight of it. He pulls away from their kiss; Dimitri chases him. 

“Dimitri,” he starts, breathless. “Can I?” he asks, fiddling with the laces of Dimitri’s breeches. 

“Yes,” Dimitri answers immediately, looking embarrassed at his eager response. Sylvain kisses him on the mouth for it and unties his laces. Dimitri’s cock is a little bigger than he expected, and he hadn’t been modest in his guess. He thinks about having that cock in his mouth, or eventually inside him but one thing at a time. 

Dimitri’s groan when Sylvain wraps his hand around him is hoarse and deep and Sylvain replays it in his mind over and over. Dimitri clenches his hands into Sylvain’s shirt, and his kiss is sloppy and wet and so very hot. Sylvain idly wonders if Dimitri will accidentally rip his shirt, and the thought makes him a little desperate with desire. He’s loath to pull away, but he really wants Dimitri’s cock in his mouth, if Dimitri’s agreeable to that. 

“Dimitri,” he starts, kissing along Dimitri’s jaw. 

“Hm?”

“Can I put your cock in my mouth?”

Dimitri freezes, and then lets out a small moan. “You don’t have to.”

“I really, really want to.”

It’s quiet apart from their breathing for a brief moment. 

“All right,” Dimitri finally says. “I’d like that.”

Sylvain grins and it’s wolfish. He wastes no time, dropping to his knees and swallowing Dimitri down to the hilt. He wonders if Dimitri is close already, if his...advanced stamina and strength will prolong his orgasm. Sylvain is excited to find out. He bobs his head a few times and then slows down, licking right under the head of Dimitri’s cock. Dimitri groans and it’s golden. 

“Sylvain, you don’t have to do this,” Dimitri pants.

Sylvain pulls off his cock, breathes “I wanna make you feel good,” across the head, and it isn’t a line, for once. This isn’t a means to an end, not his usual poor decision making or self destructive choices. He wants to make Dimitri feel good. He wants to make him happy. He hopes he can accomplish both. 

He tongues the slit of Dimitri’s cock and slides a hand down to his own crotch, palming his erection. He unties the laces of his pants and pulls himself out, fisting his cock. He’s already pretty wound up, doesn’t think it’ll take a whole lot for him to finish. He starts sucking Dimitri in earnest and he wonders if anyone can hear how loud the prince of Faerghus is, knowing Dimitri would be horribly embarrassed if he were thinking straight. He’s been keeping still, but he’s beginning to move his hips in time with Sylvain’s mouth. He probably doesn’t realize he’s doing it, and he must be close. Sylvain isn’t far off himself, and he speeds up his hand. 

“Sylvain,” Dimitri starts. “Sylvain, I’m going to—“ he cuts himself off, and his face looks like he doesn’t know whether he should pull out of Sylvain’s mouth or stay inside. Sylvain makes the decision for him, taking him down his throat and burying his nose in dark blonde curls. Dimitri comes with a loud groan and the sound he makes and the feeling of his release down Sylvain’s throat makes him finish, too, splattering hot come all over his hand. 

He pulls off Dimitri, who looks like his soul hasn’t returned to his body quite yet. He wipes his hand on his own shirt. Not ideal, but it’ll have to do. 

“Sylvain,” Dimitri begins, dazed. “That was incredible. Are you—should I?” he asks, trailing off. 

“No need,” Sylvain laughs. Dimitri looks down at Sylvain’s...situation and nods in understanding. He drops to his knees in front of Sylvain so they’re level again. 

“I’d like to return the favor, one day,” he says, and kisses him. Sylvain kisses lazily back, wonders if Dimitri is bothered by the taste of himself on his tongue. He doesn’t seem to be. Sylvain pulls away and kisses him once, twice more. 

“Sounds good to me,” Sylvain responds and kisses him again. 


End file.
